


luck of the draw, you

by checkerbored



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:25:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkerbored/pseuds/checkerbored
Summary: The look suits her in the weirdest way and the sides of her head feel free in such a way that she almost wishes she hadn't needed to be pushed to senseless and vengeful rebellion just to get up the courage to do it....or, a high school au that no one really asked for.





	luck of the draw, you

**Author's Note:**

> i really want to preface this with that i hope i will finish this but that i can't actually promise anything. this was in my head for a while, so here we are.
> 
> also, i'm not a fan of having five chunky paragraphs of backstory at the very beginning, so shit will start to make sense as we go along because it's just more fun that way.
> 
> i'm trash for these kids already. hope you might feel the same way, too.
> 
> title from mura masa's "what if i go," a true bop.

The look suits her in the weirdest way and the sides of her head feel free in such a way that she almost wishes she hadn't needed to be pushed to senseless and vengeful rebellion just to get up the courage to _do_ it.

  


But -- well. It's done now. And Lillian will have a fit whenever she sees it. (If, really. That's assuming that she'll actually come visit, and Lena's almost certain she's in the clear with the distaste that her mother seems to hold for National City. She tries not to think about the fact that _that_ is probably why she's here.)

  


...

  


Lex howls with laughter in the small box of her phone screen, and she lets the corners of her mouth quirk up in response.

  


"She's going to kill you," is what he says, but there's a sparkle in his eye and an easiness to what she can see of his frame that is only accented by the soft distress of him -- tie pulled down his chest, top buttons undone, gelled hair falling loose around his face. "Honestly."

  


She really only hums at that, fingers coming to rub at the newly - short hair at the side of her head. She watches her movements in the smaller rectangle at the top of the screen before her eyes flit back to her brother. "You never answered my question."

  


"It suits you," is what he settles on, after a moment of assessment, and there's a smile thrown her way in assurance, just for good measure. "Yeah, no. I like it. Mom won't, is the only thing."

  


"That was the plan." She watches his face fall just slightly after that, and she hates how they can so suddenly shift. Discomfort runs like a fall down her back, but she only shifts on her couch when he sighs.

  


"I'm really sorry," he says. "I tried to talk to her, but --"

  


"Her anger with me overrode the charm that you usually have with her. I know." (He'd said that to her verbatim when she'd first been about to board at the Metropolis airport, and the look of guilt that he wore then matches the one he's wearing now to a T.

  


"It's not right, I guess, I don't know --"

  


"Hey," Lex had said, tapped his finger against the side of her hand so she'd look up at him, across the table in a button down and a blazer, sunglasses pressed to the top of his head and wearing a crooked, supportive, soft curve on his lips. "Only thing that's not right is that you got caught -- what, it's true, don't look at me like that -- you're smarter than that. And I know it. And you know it. And...mom probably knows it, too, to some degree." But that wasn't the root of her anger. And that -- _that_ was actually something that they both knew. So Lex cleared his throat, and Lena had come to the rescue, dissapating the mood.

  


She'd pressed her face into her coffee and mumbled, " -- I was a little preoccupied."

  


He'd laughed so hard there was no sound from his throat for the first few seconds. Lena thinks about that when she looks at him, now. Misses hearing the wheezing sound in person.) Even the small squint of his eyes seems exactly the same. "It's not your fault. " She takes a breath. "I probably shouldn't have --"

  


Softly, he tells her to, "Stop," and shakes his head. She bites hard on her tongue and leaves the tip of it burning when she lets go. "You didn't do anything wrong. _Mostly_." They both laugh, and the ghost of that smile continues on his face when he speaks up again. "You know how she is."

  


"I know how she is when it comes to me, yeah. And so do you." And that's why she's here -- on her _own_ couch in her _own_ living room in her _own_ apartment in _National City_. Which, is a considerable distance away from her brother, who sits in his own office in a LuthorCorp building all the way in Metropolis.

  


"I think initially, I was just going to tell you to try and appease her, maybe get back into her good graces, but," he gestures through the screen. "I see that wasn't part of your plan."

  


Her plan is _petty revenge_ , mostly, because she's seventeen and angry, and far enough away that it feels like Lillian can't touch her, here. But. "National City wasn't really a part of my plan."

  


Lex shrugs. Fiddles with his watch absentmindedly. "It's one year."

  


"It's _public school_." Which, isn't a bad thing. Not really. It's the fact that the _decision_ wasn't hers and that the reasoning everyone's going to be fed for it is fake that's getting to her.

  


Lex doesn't get that, because he raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong with public school? Apart from the abysmal curriculum."

  


A dry laugh passes Lena's lips at that, but she shakes her head in earnest, anyway. "That's not -- what I meant. Public schools are fine." Important, even, for people that can't afford private school, but -- _god_. She huffs in frustration.

  


"It's one year of normal high school. And MIT and your internship will be there when you're done," he says. "It's -- hey. Think of it as a breather. You'll be able to pass those classes in your sleep."

  


"We don't take breathers."

  


"Do you know how often I wish I got to take a break? Between emails and designs and interviews and business deals?" Is what he asks her, in a laugh that's full of humor despite the severity she knows is actually behind it. " _Enjoy it_. Do some ridiculously easy math homework and just -- try and get back in mom's good graces? Please? She's --" There's a moment where he debates continuing or not, it seems, and in the end he passes with a sigh and eye contact aversion.

  


She bites her lip and looks at him, and he lets out a breath. It's easy for him to say -- Lillian's good graces seemed reserved for Lex and Lex only. He never knew what it felt like to be out of them, and Lena didn't know what it felt like to be in. There was low motivation to fight for something she'd never felt to begin with.

  


"Please?" he tries again, and Lena stops mid-eyeroll when he utters a, "Because I miss you," on the tail end of it.

  


"You took me to the airport earlier," she points out, but Lex shrugs. She also feels it necessary to add, "And we barely see each other, anyway, since -- " she pauses and has to swallow, and she watches Lex's eyes flicker away from the phone before coming back again. " -- since you got put in charge. It's not that big of a deal."

  


"I guess. But at least then I knew you were only half and hour away. Don't have that comfort anymore."

  


"You can come over whenever," she offers. She's been in it for only a few hours and already, the realization that the apartment is far too big for one person has settled into her. She feels like she's swimming in the deep end of the modern architecture. (And though the view she has from her window is something _astounding_ , it takes her breath away in something that feels more like anxiety and restlesness than anything resembling awe.)

  


"Well, _thank you_ , for giving me permission." He grins a toothy smile and she gives one back. "Next time I can take a few days off, I'm all yours."

  


...

  


"You're definitely, uh. Overqualified to be here, if I can be honest."

  


Lena usually appreciates transparency, considering she's so unused to it, but she just quirks a brow as she reviews her transcripts, which -- _yeah_ , they better be impressive. It's documenting an education worth more than this building, probably, and she hopes she received her mother's money's worth.

  


"It's --" The woman sighs -- Lena takes a quick peek at the name placard stretched across her desk -- Mrs. Vasquez shuffles the documents scattered in front of her and presses them back into the folder with LUTHOR, LENA written thickly on the side and sets it aside. "-- we don't do dual enrollment here, just because the junior college doesn't really have the resources to allow it, but, even then. The highest math class we offer is what you took in seventh grade, so it's --"

  


"Uh," Lena interrupts, rather ungracefully, but Mrs. Vasquez shoots her a grateful look and seems like she deflates with a breath she wasn't sure she was holding. "I just...want to graduate." Lex's suggestion to _take a breather_ echoes, and she shakes her head, subtly, to pull her back into the office, and, "So. Whatever credits you can give me, I'll take them."

  


The woman blinks. And then, "Everything you take will be an elective? Technically. Even if you wanted to take some core classes for...I don't know. The _fun_ of it." The folder reopens, and the papers are plucked from it a second time. Lena watches her look over it once more, before dropping it to her desk again with a soft swish. She looks a little overwhelmed. Lena thinks she probably is. "You could graduate, probably, already. If you wanted to. Three semesters ago, actually."

  


Well, yeah, she knows that, but -- Lena just grits her teeth. Swallows a little more harshly than she should under that inquisitve gaze, but. "My mom thinks it'll be beneficial. To --" God, what was the statement PR had written? "-- be able to shut off the metaphorical machine and be normal."

  


_Normal_ isn't having her own apartment and a ten thousand dollar per month allowance, though, but. Uh. Semantics?

  


More glances. At more papers. "This is your first public school."

  


It's not a question, but Lena kind of just nods for something to do with her head, anyway. "Public school is normal."

  


"Why all the way in National City?" There's a frown, and the inquiry seems more self-directed than anything else, but Lena shifts and bites on her lip for the briefest of moments before actually answering.

  


"LuthorCorp is in Metropolis." A pause, but Mrs. Vasquez raises her eyes and twitches an eyebrow for her to continue. "Seemed kind of counterproductive."

  


A snort, at that, and Lena is a little taken aback at the easy way Mrs. Vasquez regards her, humor shining in her eyes across the desk. "I guess, so, yeah."

  


She doesn't really know what to say, and so she kind of just stares when Mrs. Vasquez moves to typing things into her computer. The angle doesn't offer a lot of privacy, and so Lena can see the way that she fills out the required information and then pauses, fingertips tapping lightly against the keyboard when it comes to actually trying to fill out her schedule. " -- How do you feel about pre-calculus?"

  


Like she could pass it in her sleep, probably.

  


...

  


Art is more stimulating than chemistry (which is, really, just a bunch of powerpoint presentations and worksheets and a teacher that looks like he doesn't give one single shit) and she's transferred into the middle of a unit on paper mache.

  


(It almost feels like she's in the LuthorCorp labs if she pretends hard enough, if she twists contruction paper taut to simulate some kind of metal underneath her touch, but most of the period is spent absentmindedly dipping things in glue and sticking it onto _other_ things dipped in glue.)

  


She was going to actually try and make something substantial, because the archetectual limits that this kind of material creates is something that actually makes a spark in her mind catch for the first time in a long time, but --

  


_She was going to actually try and make something substantial,_ but everyone else is three-fourths of the way through their fish or their butterfly or their three-headed dragon and Lena just decides that she'll tape three pieces of wadded up paper together and see where that gets her, in the long run.

  


"Uh," the boy across from her points with his paintbrush when she's done connecting everything, and Lena looks up in time to see him flick blue paint across the table. "I'm really...not trying be an asshole or anything. But. What is that supposed to be?"

  


Lena should, probably, just shrug -- because, honestly? She wishes he'd tell her -- but instead gestures less haphazardly to what is clutched in his left hand. "I don't know. What is that supposed to be?"

  


He grins at that, and drops his brush before flipping it around. There's a slash of yellow in the middle of blue, and her eyes flicker up to a curl across -- across what she assumes is a forehead before, "It's Superman. Duh?"

  


Duh, indeed, and Lena can only look between him and his project before parroting it back to him. He flips it back around again and continues painting, strokes of a royal blue along what she's pretty sure are the arms and legs before he sighs.

  


"So. I'm totally going to pretend like I don't know who you are --" (she interjects with a, "Yeah, that'd be great," that really only makes him pause for a half a second before continuing on) " -- so we can have a, uh. Normal conversation. And, um, this is about the time I ask what's brought you to good old NC."

  


If it didn't feel real before, it certainly does now, and she doesn't know whether to thank this boy for grounding her or butcher him for her pulling out of a very long and very drawn out episode of denial.

  


But there's only so much that she can do with safety scissors -- which she lets clatter to the obnoxiously textured table below them -- and he seems almost proud once he starts moving to the red and so she just looks at him and clears her throat instead.

  


Citing that it's none of his business is sort of the first thing that comes to mind, but he's making a paper mache Superman and he's making an active effort to talk to her, despite ... a lot of things, and she doubts any of this conversation is going to be him trying to turn it into something malicious. She thinks on it for a second, puts some more masking tape on whatever the hell the paper shape in front of her is and says, "It's complicated."

  


She's not sure when she started describing her life as a Facebook relationship status, and she's sure she looks sort of pained once that realization fully sets in, but he overlooks it gracefully and nods. "That's cool. I just, like, I dunno. It's not Metropolis, definitely, and so --"

  


"Yeah." She doesn't mean to interrupt him, but it kind of just happens, because there's something that squeezes a little bit at her chest when she breathes in. "It's definitely not."

  


He gives her a little look, one that's longer than just a glance, before he's dipping his paintbrush again.

  


...

  


She calls Lex at lunch and gets his secretary instead. "Miss Luthor?"

  


"Yeah. Hi. Is Lex in?"

  


There's a sound that sounds like a shuffling of papers for about half a second before, "Mr. Luthor is in a meeting right now, but it's due out in a few minutes. Will you hold?"

  


She chews on her lip, and flicks at the skin of her apple before, "Yeah."

  


LuthorCorp is too much of a conglomerate to invest in any kind of hold music, and so Lena is stuck with a static while she tries to dissect what, exactly, National City High School is trying to feed her. She'd heard stories about public school food, but there's a single leaf of iceberg lettuce resting underneath a tomato and a ranch packet that's _supposed_ to be a salad, and --

  


"Yo."

  


It may be the most nervous and out of place way she's ever heard that greeting uttered, let alone the fact that she hasn't heard it used unironically in the past decade, but she's glancing up, phone still pressed tightly to her ear at the boy from art. He still has paint flecks across his fingers, and he's biting his lip almost completely off of his face. She raises an eyebrow.

  


He points a thumb over his shoulder, jerkily and quickly and with much more effort than actually necessary and says, "You want to -- did you maybe -- there's --" He stumbles thorough all of it with a straight face, and Lena is almost impressed before he rubs a palm across his cheeks and sighs. "Do you want to sit with me and my friends? It's cool if you want to be alone. But like. I was told I should offer."

  


She moves the phone away from her mouth -- like Lex might answer her in the next few minutes, as if -- "Are you just asking to be nice? Because if you don't actually want me to sit with you, I won't."

  


"I'm asking mostly to be nice, but also because it's a bummer to see anyone sitting by themselves and you've taken the total cafeteria happiness level down by at least 5 points." He pokes at her tray. "Especially with that. Word of advice? Bring a lunch."

  


It's a welcome direction, because the food from before was edible and nutritious, at least ("Better be," Lex had always said. "Considering the crazy tuition at that place."). "I'll keep that in mind," is what she murmurs, but she stands, throwing her backpack over one shoulder, and then looking at --

  


God, she doesn't even know his name, but he looks at her both expentantly, excitedly, and hesitantly, all of them flashing across his face at once in a way that is both mind blowing and off putting.

  


(And she gives up on catching Lex, tapping the red phone button and slipping her phone back into her jacket pocket.)

  


"We are," he points again as he swivels, and she picks up her tray. "Over here. Coolest table, you can't miss it."

  


She really can't, if only for the fact that the only other two occupants are staring at them as they approach, and the boy slides across from them with ease before patting the seat next to him.

  


"Okay, guys, contain your excitement --"

  


"We know who she is, Winn, don't even start." It's a girl, with green eyes and dimple on the side of her mouth that pops out when she grins across the table. "Duh."

  


Lena raises and eyebrow and places a palm on her pocket when she thinks she feels her phone buzz (nothing, just wishful thinking) and says the only thing that, for some reason, will come out of her mouth. "I guess my reputation preceeds me."

  


All three of the others continue on to snort at that, and the boy that's Not-Winn pushes a pudding cup over to her. She accepts it with a look, and then Actual-Winn passes her a spoon.

  


"You are the most exciting thing to happen to NCHS in _forever_ , so yeah, your reputation preceeds you." She rolls her eyes, but it doesn't come off as malicious, and Lena hopes that's intentional.

  


"Not to mention, a billionaire in public school? That's front page news for days."

  


"Oh, yeah, wow. People, Teen Vogue, CatCo -- even the Daily Planet, which is ... a little gossip magazine-y for them, but." Winn already has his phone pulled out, scrolling through a Google results page, and all Lena can really to is tighten her grip on the spoon that was given to her.

  


Because, what the fuck? The most human interaction she ever had in private school is the reason that she's here _now_ , and she didn't do much socializing outside of that. And so this? This is a lot. This is almost too much.

  


But then she chances a glance at Winn's iPhone screen and it becomes entirely, irrevocably _too much_.

  


It's a picture of her and Lex at the airport in the top image results, and she swallows against something in her throat before the girl looks up and squints at her for a second. "You got a haircut, or what? This stuff was only taken, like. Yesterday."

  


She shifts a little, and suddenly, the breeze against the sides of her head are noticable and uncomfortable. "Yeah. It's -- can you put that away, actually? I don't really --"

  


"Sorry," is what Winn says, easily pocketing his phone, and the others follow suit in apology. Her fingers loosen, and the pudding cup plastic makes small little pops as the pressure is pulled off.

  


"No. Um -- it's just a different thing, to know that it's kind of a big deal, but to see it is something else, actually, entirely." Something else entirely that she doesn't like _at all_ , but she can't untake the pictures and she can't unpublish articles and she can't unsend herself to National City High School. It just doesn't work that way.

  


...

  


The tall boy's name is James, and they have photography together. She looks up when he walks into the room and he catches her eye immediately and moves to slide into the desk next to her.

  


"You're into photograhy?" He asks, pulling a camera from his backpack. It's got a custom strap on it, one with his initials in leather, and Lena shakes her head.

  


"No. I just needed a schedule." She has all the credits in the core classes that they offer, here, but she clamps her lips shut against that. "So."

  


He nods, "That's cool," and then continues tugging things out of his backpack -- notebook, pen, and then a couple of different lenses -- before he sighs a little bit and chews on his lip. "Hey, I'm -- sorry about Winn. He's a little much, sometimes --"

  


"It's fine." And it is. He talks to her like she's just Lena From Art instead of Lena Luthor, and it's nice. It's refreshing, and it's already made this first day in National City exceed her expectations.

  


"Okay." And he smiles at her, a little lopsided, before, "But, you know. You don't have to sit with us tomorrow, if you don't want to. Or ever again, actually, so. Don't feel obligated."

  


“You can just tell me you don't want me at your table.”

  


He eyes her out of the corners of his eye, wrinkling his brow just a little bit. “Oh – that's not what I meant.”

  


"I didn't want to assume, but," and she smiles back at him, feeling wholly unprepared as she sits with her palms on an empty desk. "Thanks for the invite."

  


He laughs and then the teacher pulls something up on the projector.

  


...

  


Lex calls her back when she's taking the bus back to her apartment, and their conversation opens up with his immediate apology.

  


"Sorry, I'm sorry. The partners from Beijing needed an emergency financial meeting --"

  


"Hey," she tries to cut him off gently, but it really just comes out more in a laugh. "It's fine. "

  


She can almost hear the tension fall out of his shoulders on the other line, and he lets out a little breath and a laugh of his own. "Cool." A beat, and then, "So. Public school?"

  


"Uh, yeah. Public school." All she can do is parrot that back at him, and she winces against the loud screech of the bus doors opening. "It's..."

  


She doesn't finish, and he snorts. "Yeah? Sounds like it. What classes are you even taking?"

  


"Mostly electives."

  


"Mom will have a field day with that."

  


Her chest constricts for a brief moment. "She's having a field day with this whole fucking thing, so what does it even matter --"

  


"Lena," is what he says, softly, and she sighs, pressing further into the harsh plastic seats. "I know. But --"

  


"I mean, it's either that, or I start taking all the math and science classes that I took in like, seventh grade again."

  


He's quick to point out, with a toothy smile that she can almost hear, "It's always good to have a refresher."

  


"There's a difference between being _refreshed_ and wasting my time, and -- " She sighs. "I don't -- I don't know. I think regardless, I'm just going to hate it here. So." Regardless, she's going to hate the fact that she was shipped off to another city, because god forbid Lillian Luthor actually talk about anything.

  


"A breather, Lee. Like a gap year, except instead of going overseas to do some charity work, you're -- what electives are you taking? Like, exactly."

  


"Um. Photography. Gym. Art. I still have a giant free period that they said they're going to try and fill up, but -- "

  


"So instead of doing overseas charity work, you're fingerpainting and trying to run a six minute mile." She laughs at that, and so he does, too. "It's decompressing, either way."

  


"Not as much as it could be," is what she just can't help but bite out. "I didn't exactly make this choice for myself."

  


He's quiet for a second, and then the silence is broken by his relenting murmur of, "Well, no. You didn't."

  


And then, because the lull that drops between them is usually evident of him trying to justify their mother's actions -- which she just ... does not need, right now, especially not from him -- she says, "Hey, I -- I'll call you tomorrow?"

  


And Lex isn't stupid, but he takes the dismissal for what it is and tells her to, "Text me, if it's really important though?"

  


She says, "Yeah," and then hangs up, and her phone buzzes seconds later with a text. _Have a good day tomorrow. I'm sorry. I love you._

  


 


End file.
